“You had your daughter with you. Your car would barely start. You looked at that small apartment as if it were a palace.”
A weak laugh escaped me.
“He felt like one.”
“I decided to give you time.”
“Time for what?”
“To get back up again.”
I stared at him.
“So why do they make me write the checks?”
“Because I didn’t want you to feel like a charity case.”
The response was harsher than I expected.
He pointed to the box.
“You paid the rent every month. You did your part. What happened after that was my decision.”
I dried my face.
“Almost $29,000 is not an insignificant decision.”
“No.”
“You could have used that money.”
“I’ve had enough.”
“You wear the same shirt every day.”
“I have seven of them.”
I laughed through my tears.
For the first time, her lips curved slightly.
Then he reached into the shoebox and pulled a white envelope from under the checks.
He slid it across the table.
My name was written on the front.
I opened it.
You will find the rest on the next page.
Inside was a letter from his bank.
He confirmed that the money in my account was mine. Mr. Alvarez had no intention of cashing the checks.
There was also a second document.
I read it twice.
Read also
Then I looked at him.
“This can’t be right.”
“Is.”
The newspaper said that he was transferring ownership of the apartment above the garage to me.
Not the blue house. Not the entire property. Just the renovated house and a narrow strip of land around it.
I shook my head.
“I cannot accept this.”
“Can.”
“No, I can’t. You barely know me.”
“I’ve been watching you for three years.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I saw you leave for work before dawn. I saw you come home and help Trixie with her reading. I saw you pay all the bills before buying anything for yourself.”
I looked away.
He leaned forward.
“You never asked me to lower the rent. You never spent the money. You always had every dollar ready for me.”
“It belonged to you.”
“He never did.”
Then I started to cry. Not silently. Not in an orderly fashion.
I cried for the woman I had been. I cried for Sofia. I cried for Mr. Alvarez, who had remained silent for years after a terrible mistake.
He sat in his chair and let me cry.
When I finally calmed down, I asked, “Why now?”
“Because you came to my door angry.”
I blinked.
He shrugged slightly.
“You weren’t afraid anymore.”
That answer stuck with me.
